


Chicken Soup for the SOLDIER's Soul

by Asylos



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylos/pseuds/Asylos
Summary: Prompt: Zack Fair/SephirothArt or fic: Sephiroth gets sick and Zack wants to help.





	Chicken Soup for the SOLDIER's Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRedHero11037](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHero11037/gifts).



> Zack doesn't care much about titles, and Seph is too sick to care, so you get the title Cloud picked. This is probably one of the cutest things I've written. I hope you like it!
> 
> ( / indicates italics / )

Zack knocked on the door as quietly as he could. When no one shouted for him to go away, he swiped his keycard and let himself in. He pushed the door closed behind him with one foot so as to not jumble the bags he was carrying again. He winced and held his breath as the sound it made echoed in the room. Again, no response. He let out his breath with a sigh of relief and slipped off his boots, laces still tied, before heading into the kitchen. 

Soup came out of the one bag, pot and all, and went on the stove to heat. The smell of homemade chicken broth filled the kitchen in no time at all. Zack pulled out his PHS, double checked it was on silent, and sent a quick text. 

/Thanks Spike. If this tastes as good as it smells, it’s gotta cure this!/

/Ma’s recipe has never let me down. Good luck. Hopefully he doesn’t kill you before he tries the soup. If he does though, I get your stuff right? :D /

Zack shook his head, smiling. He slipped the device back in his pocket so he could stir the food. Satisfied it wasn’t about to burn, or boil over into a huge mess, he emptied the rest of his bags. Soon the counter was stacked with boxes of extra soft tissues and various cold remedies. He wasn’t sure if any of them would work on a Soldier, but he wasn’t about to call Hojo to ask. That was the last thing anyone needed. 

A faint wheeze came from the direction of the bedroom. Zack grabbed a tray from under the counter to load with soup and supplies. He made it three steps from the kitchen before going back to the fridge for a bottle of water to add to the pile. Satisfied, he approached the dark room. 

Sephiroth cracked one eye half open when he sensed the bedroom door moving. He clutched at the hilt of masamune, but couldn’t manage to swing it round to point at the intruder. He sighed when he saw who it was, the air movement making bubbles of snot trickle from his nose and onto the tissues he’d layered on the pillow. He closed his eyes. He heard the sound of something being set on his nightstand, and then felt his fingers being pried off his sword. He reluctantly let it go. 

The bed shifted as Zack sat down on the edge. Sephiroth grunted. He smelled the vague smell of something, but it was hard to decipher with his nose as blocked up as it was. 

“Do you think you could sit up? It’s going to be awkward feeding you on your side,” Zack said softly. 

Sephiroth grunted again, “I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure those were words you were trying to make but it just came out as a gurgling ‘help me’. Come on, let me help. I’m the one who got you stuck with those sick kids in the first place.”

“They have no concept of viral transference prevention.”

“Not everyone grew up with Hojo levels of paranoia, Seph.”

“It’s not paranoia when every beaker has something that could mutate or kill you,” he muttered as he slowly rearranged to lean back against the headboard. 

Zack grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand and gently pulled the silver hair back into a neat tail. He grabbed the bowl of soup and lifted a spoonful to his patient’s lips. Sephiroth gave him a concerned eyebrow raise. “Don’t worry, I had help. Cloud made it.” Sephiroth let his face relax. “Oh come on, my cooking isn’t that bad... Is it?”

Sephiroth smiled, just a little, and ate the spoonful. 

It only took a few more slow spoonfuls before Sephiroth grabbed the bowl out of Zack’s hand and just drank the contents from it. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in days and Zack was being far too careful and slow about feeding him. 

“Do you want some more?” Zack asked with a quiet chuckle. 

“Let’s see if this stays put first.” He reached for the bottle of water on the table and Zack moved it into his hand. He drank half of it before stopping, just in time for a fit of sneezing. Zack was ready and thrust a box of super soft tissues at him. Sephiroth glared at him, but took them. His expression changed to one of pure joy when he touched the soft material to his much abused nose. Clearly, he thought, he had somehow been using sandpaper mistakenly labeled as tissues before. 

Sephiroth shifted over a bit to give Zack room to sit beside him. “I got a bunch of different cold and flu things,” Zack said, passing over a couple of the boxes of pills. “I don’t know if they’ll help.”

Sephiroth blinked at them and shrugged. “It can’t hurt.” He took the box with a cartoon picture of a dog in a star and moon pattern hat and tore open one end. The capsules inside were as brightly coloured as the box. He popped two out of the foil and swallowed them dry while Zack fruitlessly offered the water bottle. 

He slid down the bed and rested his head on Zack’s thigh. “Be a good pillow,” he said, patting his leg. He closed his eyes and was quickly asleep. 

Zack very slowly pulled his PHS out of his pocket, pausing at the slightest sound of annoyance from his patient. With his other hand he gently stroked the silver hair draped over him. 

/Still alive,/ he messaged. /So far so good! The soup was a hit./

/Awesome. Now remember not to get sick too! Save the makeouts for when there’s less snot involved./

/Like anyone could turn down the mighty Sephiroth in any state. You’ll just have to make more soup./

/I’ll just be here not thinking about my best friends making out with each other. Good night, Zack./

/Night Spike./


End file.
